


The Masks We Make

by welpthatdidntwork



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: F/M, I guess but who knows, Light Angst, LingFan Week 2016
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-11
Updated: 2016-07-11
Packaged: 2018-07-22 23:07:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7457317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/welpthatdidntwork/pseuds/welpthatdidntwork
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Physically, it wasn't much. Like any good mask, it hid its wearer’s identity, however this mask was more intimidating to look at due to its blocked coloring of reds, whites, and blacks. It gave the viewer the impression of a stoic god, waiting to pass their judgement. But of course that was up to viewer. It was light so not to burden the wearer and was not uncomfortable to use. The only sign that it might be anything more than this was the ying that dotted the forehead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Masks We Make

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt 'Masks' for Lingfan Week.  
> Based on this quote from Christopher Barzak:   
> “Nothing is more real than the masks we make to show each other who we are.”

Physically, it wasn't much. Like any good mask, it hid its wearer’s identity, however this mask was more intimidating to look at due to its blocked coloring of reds, whites, and blacks. It gave the viewer the impression of a stoic god, waiting to pass their judgement. But of course that was up to viewer. It was light so not to burden the wearer and was not uncomfortable to use. The only sign that it might be anything more than this was the ying that dotted the forehead. The ying’s only purpose was to show that this mask had a pair, something as covering and formidable as its other half. Emotionally however, the mask covered much more than the wearer’s face and its weight was heavy with the weight of an entire clan. It and its pair were protectors of more than just the identities of its users.

For as long as Ling could remember, all of his guardians, most notably Fu, were masked around him, as was only proper when in the presence of the young prince. However, Ling had believed, with hope only a child could possess, that his new friend and soon to be newest guard, Lan Fan would escape that fate. Unfortunately she couldn’t and the mask was given to her on her thirteenth birthday.

As far as Ling could tell, Lan Fan never had a problem with the mask covering her face. It was like a second skin that at times, seemed to be favored over her first. She found comfort in the anonymity it gave her and the way it hid any emotion on her expressive face. The mask gave her a sense of security and Ling found comfort in the fact that Lan Fan had something that could provide that. 

That doesn’t mean that the blank, emotionless slate the mask gave her didn’t annoy him at times. It hid the blush that he tried to coax out of her pale skin whenever he teased her, it covered the small smile she’d give whenever he did something funny or stupid, and every time she had it on, the divide between them, caused by what was proper and what was tradition, seemed to grow slowly but surely. But no matter how it could annoy him, the mask did its job of protecting her. 

Until it didn’t.

That day up on the roof was the only time Ling had seen the mask break and if he ever did again he wouldn't know what to do. The mask had only broken once and that was all it took for Lan Fan to fall and for her blood to spill. And landing beside her, he could see the pool of blood grow ever larger and could see pieces of the mask and could see how they shined like diamonds when the light hit them, brilliant and bright against their red background. 

Ling was one viewer who looked at the mask and saw a stoic god. He was a viewer who looked upon the mask and saw the girl who wore it may have been a little less stoic but no less divine. He was also the viewer of diamond-studded blood, and saw how it looked like the ichor of the gods. 

“But all gods bleed and if they all bleed, then all can fall,” a tiny, traitorous voice whispered in Ling’s head. “And have you ever seen a fallen god rise?”

“Well then,” he thought as he ran through twisting, unfamiliar streets, “I'll have to be the first.” Because he would see her rise, even if he had to piece her mask back together, shard by bloody shard.

**Author's Note:**

> Alright first fanfic of Lingfan Week done! I'm hoping to do at least one more, maybe two so we'll see how it goes.


End file.
